


A Parting of the Ways

by ReneeoftheStars



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Frustration, Old Friends, dooku isn't evil yet, if you can't beat em - join em?, politics are awful, sheev is about to change that, the jedi order sucks sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 08:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeoftheStars/pseuds/ReneeoftheStars
Summary: Those who are disillusioned want no part in the systems they break from. Nevertheless, Sifo-Dyas tries to keep his friend, Dooku, from leaving the Jedi Order.





	A Parting of the Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 2 weeks after "The Phantom Menace"
> 
> Written, as per usual, for tumblr blog "finish-the-clone-wars" writing Wednesday prompt, "Let Me Convince You"

Sifo-Dyas’s boots fell hard against the floor as he hurried towards the temporary living quarters in the Temple’s southern side. He ignored the stares of his fellow Jedi as he passed them, not caring if they gossiped about him now, not when one of his closest friends was about to make a terrible mistake…

His breath came in short gasps as he slowed to round a corner. Once again, Sifo-Dyas made a note that he needed to refocus on his physical training; his endurance seemed to be failing him more frequently. He had become lax in his training since his dismissal from the Council; that had to end now. But perhaps the shortness of breath was tied to the tight feeling in his chest, the worry clenched in his heart.  

He reached the door he sought and came to a stop, breathing heavily, raising a hand to activate the control panel –

The door slid open. On the other side of the threshold, Dooku stared back at him. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever, his normally well-groomed white hair disheveled. His worn traveling cloak draped around him, and a satchel – looking rather light – was clutched in his hand.

“Don’t.” It was all Sifo-Dyas could say.

Dooku’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “Who told you?”

“Yoda. You would have left without saying anything to me?”

Dooku gave an irritated shake of his head. “It would have been easier. You should not have come,” he said shortly, brushing past Sifo-Dyas. His robes rippled around him as he strode away from the room, his back straight and eyes forward.

Sifo-Dyas matched his pace. “Dooku, you mustn’t do this.”

His old friend didn’t look at him. “I have made my decision.”

“It’s an unwise one,” Sifo-Dyas admonished. “I understand your frustrations with the Council, and with the Republic as a whole – you _know_ I understand. But to leave the Order –”

“I cannot abide by it anymore,” Dooku interrupted. “The corruption in the Senate has led to the deaths of too many good people.” Contempt colored his deep voice as his words became clipped. “Conflicts that should be resolved within a matter of days or weeks are lengthened by years so that individuals may profit at the expense of millions. And the Council refuses to take the necessary actions to bring about a single cohesive government – we’ve become so negligent that we are at the Senate’s beck and call, rather than focusing on the roots of the evils we encounter on almost every mission. We –” He broke off with a scoff. “I’m repeating myself. You know my thoughts. You agree with many of them.”

Sifo-Dyas glanced at him uneasily as they walked, uncomfortably aware of the Jedi passing by. Anger radiated from Dooku like a reactor core, causing some of their more sensitive peers to turn and appraise them.

The smaller corridor they’d traveled down opened up into the central hall that ran through the heart of the Temple. The distant curved ceiling rose so far above their heads that it felt as though they’d stepped outside, sleek pillars rising on either side of them as tall as trees. Sculptures flanked various doorways, smooth stone capturing the essence of ancient Jedi Masters. Bright sunlight shone through the numerous windows, bathing them in warmth. The entrance courtyard lay honeycombed in pylons at the far end of the hall, and it was for that entrance that Dooku marched.

“I agree in principle, yes, my friend,” Sifo-Dyas admitted, his voice low and rushed, “but when it comes to the reality of the matter… the sort of revival that you and I want for the Republic is one that will take _time_ to create. We cannot just raze the current system. Palpatine seems like a good man. He may be able to reign in the Senators, instill a new expectation of what the Senate should be – ”

“Or he may end up being just another politician, and everything he has said to me about rebuilding the Republic is nothing more than empty words. And even if he isn’t, there is no guarantee he will be able to overhaul the current practices. And beings will continue to suffer.”

“Which is where our duty lies.” The’d arrived at the courtyard pylons, the capital sprawling beyond them. Sifo-Dyas halted and seized Dooku’s arm. The move was sudden enough that the older man was caught off guard and spun around to face him.

“As Jedi, we serve the Republic as a whole.” Sifo-Dyas met the stern man’s gaze and realized he was losing him. “I understand the appeal of leaving as a statement of disapproval of the politics of it all – but think of the people you have helped. Would you turn your back on them? On all the people you _could_ help by continuing to serve? Countless missions, hundreds, _thousands_ of beings across the galaxy who are alive and prospering because of you.”

Dooku wrenched his arm away. “And how many more are dead because of my actions?”

Sifo-Dyas hesitated, hearing something strange in Dooku’s voice. The other man’s dark eyes seemed distant, haunted, remembering something…

“Galidraan?”

The flinch was almost imperceptible, but Sifo-Dyas saw it.

Dooku said, mostly to himself, “It was a massacre.”

“You were deceived,” Sifo-Dyas responded gently. He remembered when Dooku had returned from the battle on Galidraan twelve years ago. Gaunt and silent, horror etched on his face, Dooku had retreated for weeks as he took leave to a secluded Temple in the outer rim to mediate. Sifo-Dyas had learned the details from Yoda when he joined the Council few years later. “It is in the past.”

“The Council took the governor at his word. We did not investigate the validity of his claims. And we killed more than three hundred True Mandalorians because of it.” The haunted look was replaced by something hard. “The Council did not learn from it,” Dooku said harshly. “They continue to take governments and leaders at their word, congratulating themselves on maintaining order without ever acknowledging their shortcomings.” Dooku’s expression softened fractionally. “It was their greatest mistake to remove you from their ranks, my old friend. You, at least, attempted to bring sense to their sessions.”

“Many of the younger members –”

“Will inevitably fall into the same false sense of security that has plagued us for decades.” Dooku’s tone was dismissive.

Sifo-Dyas shook his head insistently. “You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know they won’t. Even now, they won’t admit that the Order has grown arrogant, and that in their arrogance, new threats have risen from the darkness.”

Sifo-Dyas hesitated, sensing the grief welling within his friend as his gaze swept the vast expanse of the central south hall. The sunlight was beginning to fade, even though dusk was still several hours away. In the distance, he heard the low rumble of thunder.

“Qui-Gon consulted with me before he returned to Naboo,” Dooku said slowly. “He knew that his attacker was a Sith lord. But when he brought the evidence before the Council, they dismissed the idea. They said the Sith could not have returned without alerting the Order. But he knew. Qui-Gon was never wrong about such things. And still they sent him away with no support. They sent him to his death.” Ire coated his words. “And still they do not announce the return of the Sith.”

Sifo-Dyas tried to speak, but words failed him. Yes, the Council had not informed the Order, had not made public the knowledge that it had been a Sith that murdered the good-humored Jedi. But even as excuses and reasons came to mind, he knew that uttering them would mean nothing. Dooku needed a reason to _stay…_

“They’ve knighted his apprentice, Kenobi.”

“Qui-Gon spoke highly of him. I’m sure he will be a great Jedi.”

“He is young, and has much to learn. He could use your guidance.” From a pocket in his robes, Sifo-Dyas pulled out a curved lightsaber hilt and extended it. _‘Leave this life behind, he wants to,’_ Yoda had said. ‘ _But a part of him, his lightsaber is. Leave behind a part of himself, he cannot.’_

Dooku’s expression darkened as he gazed at his weapon. “My old Master does not want to let me go. But he fails to realize that he is one of the primary reasons I cannot stay.” His eyes refocused on Sifo-Dyas. “I have faith that Qui-Gon completed Obi-Wan’s training. There is nothing now that I could impart to the boy.” The finality in his voice left no room for argument.

They stood in silence as massive dark clouds continued to roll across the sky, streaks of lightning beginning to flash over the Senate building in the distance. As Sifo-Dyas studied the venerated Jedi Master, he realized that there was no changing his mind. He supposed that he should have expected this; after their innumerable conversations over the years, both men had grown disheartened by the continued corruption in the Senate and the Council’s response to it. It had only been a matter of time before this happened.

“Is there nothing I can say?” Sifo-Dyas asked softly.

Dooku exhaled sharply, and suddenly the anger was gone, replaced by a weariness so deep-set that it seemed to be all that was left in him.

“I wish it hadn’t come to this, my friend.” His eyes closed briefly. “But I cannot bear it any longer.”

For a moment, Sifo-Dyas said nothing, then pressed the lightsaber into Dooku’s hands. “Then you must at least take this with you. Not to entice you to use it, or to return to us. But to remember what you have dedicated your life to. For those whose lives you have impacted. It is not something to forget, but you must not dwell on the past if you are to move forward.”

Dooku’s fingers closed around the hilt, gazing down at it pensively. Then, carefully, he clipped it back onto his belt. “Would you consider leaving as well? You share my feelings on many of these matters.”

Sifo-Dyas’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of leaving. What would he be, if not a Jedi? What would he do, if not providing what aid he could?

Together, they closed the distance of the courtyard and stepped out onto the entrance. The vast expanse of stone jutted out before them, leading towards the broad steps leading down to the rest of the Temple Court, the edge of the Temple District. Massive statues of the Four Warriors and Two Sages lined the steps, seeming to beckon to the Jedi. Sifo-Dyas turned his head to gaze at the engravings on the frontmost pylons; the Four Masters, the founders of the Temple, stood guard.

“I can’t,” he said finally. “Especially with what is coming. I must prepare, even if the Council does not see the necessity of it yet.”

Dooku shook his head. “Even after everything, you remain loyal to them.” Some strange note entered his voice as he said, “I hope to never see your army, Sifo-Dyas.”

Sifo-Dyas forced a weak smile. His recent conversation with Lama Su playing in the back of his mind. “You may get your wish. I’ve been informed that I am expected to provide a – ah, _template –_  to serve as the basis for the army. I have to decide on an individual who is not only fit to be a formidable soldier, but is willing to have themselves cloned a million times over.”

Dooku’s eyes wandered over the descending steps of the Temple as he thought. “Should I think of such an individual, I will be sure to inform you. Have you told anyone else?”

“You are the only other soul who knows of the army, Dooku. I will not bring it up to the Council again…until there is more tangible evidence for its creation.”

“And in that, I wish you well. Should you ever need me, you will find me on Serreno.”

“You’re reclaiming your family’s estate,” Sifo-Dyas guessed.

The other man nodded. “With the wealth and prestige that it entails, I hope to do more than I ever could as a servant of the Republic.”

Sifo-Dyas paused, a heavy feeling settling into his heart. “I suppose, if we are to meet again, I’ll be expected to use your family’s title, won’t I? Count Dooku.”

Dooku mulled it over a moment, then laid a hand on Sifo-Dyas’s shoulder. “Never you, my friend.”

They lapsed back into silence. Sifo-Dyas thought of a hundred things he could say, _should_ say, but none of the words wanted to form. So he distracted himself, wondering if he should accompany his friend to the nearest spaceport, or return inside. Likewise, Dooku was hesitating, contemplating the statues and spires of the Temple, his hand unconsciously brushing against his lightsaber.

Finally, he seemed ready; his gaze refocused. Sifo-Dyas brought his own hands up to clasp Dooku’s shoulders.

“Goodbye, my old friend,” Dooku said solemnly.

“May the Force be with you always, brother.” Sifo-Dyas couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye.

With a final nod, Dooku broke away, his eyes fixated on the city. He descended the steps without a backwards glance.

Rain began to trickle down from the clouds above, splotching the ground until soon it was impossible to tell one raindrop from the next. Dooku did not stop walking, did not return to the Temple for shelter; he merely raised the hood of his dark cloak and continued forward.

And Sifo-Dyas did not go back inside. Instead, he sat on the top step, watching the dark figure growing smaller and smaller.

Sifo-Dyas watched him go, something twinging in his gut, telling him that this was wrong. But what could he do? It was Dooku’s choice; Sifo-Dyas could not prevent his friend from leaving, no matter how much he disagreed with the decision.

And for a moment, just a moment, as he sat there looking out over the Temple grounds, the world before him shifted.

_Instead of a dark-cloaked figure walking away, one walks towards the Temple, and they are not alone._

_Behind the figure marches row upon row of white-armored soldiers, almost Mandalorian in design, long blaster rifles cradled against their shoulders. They reach the bottom of the long flight of steps and begin to ascend; they are going to enter the Temple. The Dark Side creeps around them, fueled by the cloaked figure with a lightsaber clenched in his hand –_

Sifo-Dyas jerked violently, falling back and catching himself on his elbows, breathing heavily. He blinked rapidly and peered through the downpour. No soldiers, and the only cloaked figure with a lightsaber was now no more than a speck far off in the darkness.

He was shaking, the cold rain drenching his clothes. He had no context for what he had seen – was this history, or yet to come? Was there some conflict in Mandalore space he was unaware of, some clash between the ancient warriors and the Order? Or was there no connection? What was an army doing approaching the Temple? Were they part of the larger enemy against the Republic in the approaching war? Or had he seen something so far in the future that it would not come to pass for hundreds of years?

And what of the man with the lightsaber? His face had been shadowed – was he Jedi, or Sith?

Disquieted, Sifo-Dyas remained seated on the steps outside the Temple, soaked to the bone, rubbing his hands uneasily together as he searched the falling rain for shapes and shadows and answers.

                               

*                                                             *                                                             *

 

Dooku felt a great weight lift from his heart as he continued putting distance between himself and the Temple. Now, he would no longer feel accountable for the incompetence of his Masters, or the Senate. He was free to participate in the inevitable reformation of the Republic as he wanted. And if Sifo-Dyas’s visions were true – as Dooku believed them to be – the best opportunity was rapidly approaching.

Coming to a bustling intersection of foot traffic, his cloak soaked through, he paused to consider his next course of action. He would be returning to his homeworld, of course, to take control of his inheritance. But before he did…

Intrigue got the best of him. Shielding his handheld holoprojector from the rain – one of the few personal possessions that he retained – he keyed in a connection.

For a moment, there was no response. Then a wavering blue form sprang to life in his palm. A benign-looking man offered him a smile.

“Master Dooku, what an unexpected pleasure,” Chancellor-elect Palpatine greeted.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting your afternoon, Chancellor,” Dooku responded smoothly.

“Not at all. How could I be of service to you?”

“I merely sought to find out if your offer to discuss our individual goals for the Republic was still standing.”

“Of course, Master Jedi.” The soon-to-be-former Senator from Naboo raised an eyebrow. “Though – you’ll forgive me for inquiring – I was under the impression that as long as you answered to the Jedi High Council, you were not comfortable delving so deep into the political arena.”

“I have left the Jedi Order.”

“Have you, now?” Palpatine’s interest seemed quite keen now. “Well, my friend, that certainly is news. If you are available now, I would be honored if you would join me at my office. If you are willing to indulge me, I am very curious as to the motivations of your decision. Of course,” he said quickly, holding up a hand, “I am sure you have other matters that must be attended to first, being a free man and all.”

_A free man._ Yes, that was one way to put it. “I will make my way to the Senate Chambers now, Chancellor.”

Palpatine smiled again, but it seemed fiercer than Dooku was accustomed to. “I shall be expecting you.”


End file.
